


Snapshot: The Sea

by Laqueus



Category: Amulet (Graphic Novels)
Genre: F/M, Old Work, mermaid au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-08
Updated: 2019-12-08
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:20:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21719086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laqueus/pseuds/Laqueus
Summary: Mermaids weren’t real, everyone knew that! Then again, at one point "everyone knew" that barnacle geese grew on trees, and "everyone knew" that the sun revolved around the Earth. Only five percent of the ocean had been explored by humanity; who knew what creatures lurked in the other ninety-five percent? Creatures like mermaids, for example…
Relationships: Emily Hayes/Trellis, Tremily
Comments: 1
Kudos: 7





	Snapshot: The Sea

**Author's Note:**

  * For [The_Archives_of_Silver](https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Archives_of_Silver/gifts).



> Before we start, I need to lay down a bit of context regarding this fic. It was originally written sometime in either 2016 or 2017, and it was going to be part of a longer story. However, that didn’t end up happening, and so this snippet has sat in my files for these past few years, gathering dust. Like a surviving fragment of a ruin, I suppose. I recently dug it out and have subsequently edited/spruced it up a bit; partially as writing practise, and partially because my pal Silverheart has returned to Instagram, huzzah! I don’t plan to continue it. If my other fics are like chickens, then this one is like a chick – the base is there, but it just doesn’t have the full-grown wings, comb, wattle, and ability to lay eggs.
> 
> Tl;dr; this is an old fic that I’ve buffed up, and is essentially a random AU oneshot.  
> I’ve included what little notes there were regarding the rest of the story at the end of the fic.
> 
> Cheers!

There was a mermaid on the beach.

It lay in a groove in the sand, occasionally spasming in a weak, half-hearted way, looking for all the world like an abandoned prop, and Emily’s first reaction was to pay it no mind. She barely gave it a second glance as she wandered along the dunes, hands shoved in her hoodie pockets, hair being tugged this way and that by the stiff sea breeze. It wasn't an unreasonable attitude; you got all sorts on the shore. There were the locals, like Emily, who viewed it as just another communal space to walk the dog in - albeit a damp one with a higher concentration of weirdos - and then there was, well, everyone else really. The ‘weirdos’, a.k.a. everyone non-local: tourists, people doing photoshoots, LARPers, metal detectorists who swayed back and forth like metronomes, and finally, the mermaid fans. That last group was an odd outlier; a mixture of local and tourist, but never really fitting into either class. Emily had seen a couple of the mermaid fans before, during her forays to the beach. Normally there was just the odd straggler, but on a couple of rare occasions there had been quite a few of them congregating together in a little group. Probably some sort of club meeting, she’d hazarded. What little snatches of conversation she’d heard had revolved around mermaids, and all the members seemed to share a similar dress theme; bedecked out in various shades of blue, white, and turquoise, with an assortment of shell adornments and other such ocean ephemera scattered over their bodies. T-shirts with slogans like ‘ _Mermaid hair, don’t care_ ’, and ‘ _Part time mermaid_ ’ seemed to be a must as well, provoking no end of eye-rolling in Emily. Once or twice they'd even gotten out mermaid _tails_ , beautifully crafted things that'd clearly had a lot of time and money sunk into them. Even Emily had to admit they were lovely in a begrudging way, if a bit cumbersome and ridiculous in that they limited your land movement to 'sitting and carefully shuffling about'.

Which was rather like what the mermaid on the beach appeared to be doing. With a jolt, Emily suddenly realised that she’d been staring at them. She shook herself; what was she doing, getting lost in thought like that? Resolving not to stare again, Emily let her gaze wander – and yet somehow found her attention being drawn back once more to the figure. Why?

‘ _They’re probably just another mermaid fan,_ ’ Emily decided.

It was the obvious answer, born from previous experience. And yet something didn’t feel quite right. A little trickle of unease skittered up Emily’s spine; for a moment she considered turning and walking the other way down the beach, as not to pass them by. It was just an odd hunch, that little nagging fear that you occasionally got around strange people. Emily blew out a short breath, dismissing it. They were only a straggler from the mermaid group...

Were they?

Despite knowing that it was rude to stare, Emily deliberately ran an eye over them in inspection. Even by the standards of the group, this member seemed _really_ devoted to being a mermaid. Drawing closer, she could see that they were covered in grey body paint; an especially impressively job that'd clearly had a lot of care and detail put into it. It must've taken _hours_ to put on! Not only that, but a full set of spines and a sail ran down their back, looking almost authentic in how ragged they were. Their tail was equally themed and detailed, with a pair of great long fins streaming out either side. There must have been some sort of puppetry or mechanism in the latter, as they occasionally moved, flexing and shuddering ever so slightly.

‘ _How much body paint is caked on them?_ ’ wondered Emily, tilting her head to one side. That join between the body and tail - it was _seamless_.

She was almost upon the mermaid - making a wide berth as she did so - but instead of continuing on by, stopped. The whole situation felt off somehow, and she couldn’t quite put her finger on _why_. Perhaps it was the way the mermaid twitched and wriggled; or perhaps it was the fact that their eyes were closed with a vaguely strained expression on their face. Usually the mermaid fans seemed so _happy_.

"Hey," Emily called. The mermaid didn't respond. "Hey, are you okay?"

Against her better judgement, she moved closer. "Are you all right?" Her nose wrinkled in distaste. Had they been rolling around in a fish market or something?

Now that she thought about it, the mermaid really didn't seem to be moving in a way that was healthy or voluntary. The thought ' _Are they having a fit?_ ' flashed through Emily's mind; visions of her having to call an ambulance followed. She was almost upon the supine figure. Uncertain, she edged closer. "Look, I don't-"

Eyes snapping open, the mermaid exploded into action. It surged upwards, hissing like a tea-kettle, thrashing like fish in a net; Emily shrieked. Its tail flailed back and forth, thumping against the sand; what’d previously been something strangely static was now an angry, writhing mass of grey muscle. Instinctively, Emily kicked out while simultaneously trying to leap backwards; there was a solid thump of contact, followed by a slippery moment of overbalance, and she landed on the sand. Before she'd even realised what she was doing, Emily had scrabbled madly away, kicking sand into the air and all over her clothes.

"What the hell is your problem?" she snapped, her voice coming out as a strained shriek. A gritty layer of sand coated the threads of her hair, and she angrily swiped them out of her eyes.

The mermaid didn't answer at first. It curled there, clutching at its face as a low groaning sound drifted from its mouth; the noise put Emily in mind of a dying whale. Then the mermaid raised its head, shooting a venomous glare at her. For a moment the pair glowered at one another, a little thread of hatred spanning the air between them as they sized one another up. Sand encrusted the mermaid’s face, mingling with blue blood caking its nose. To Emily’s surprise, its pupils were slitted; ‘ _Contacts, no doubt,_ ’ she thought frostily. There was a nasty scar tracing down one side of its face; probably makeup, although it did seem at odds with the aesthetic of the rest of the mermaid fans. Its ears were also pointed, with a great bite taken out of one, definitely enforcing Emily's opinion that they were a weirdo. For some reason, all these points knotted together and made Emily feel even more cross. A lot of it was the fact that she’d had a fright, but she was too angry to pay that vital factor any heed. That someone would go to all that trouble making such a fancy costume, just for the purpose of causing a scare! Didn’t people have better things to do with their time?

"Back off, human!" the mermaid hissed, a male timbre in its voice and _oh no those were fangs_.

"Human?!" Emily shot back, fury overcoming any sort of residual fear she felt. "I thought you were in trouble, jerk!"

"I'm fine! Now back off, _inlander_!" the mermaid – or rather, merman - spat. In the next moment all strength seemed to drain from him. He trembled, then dropped to the floor.

"Oh yeah, because you really look 'fine'," Emily retorted sarcastically. "What is this, some sort of joke? Luring people to help and then scaring them?!"

The merman looked up weakly, but there was still bite in his voice. "Pah, do you really think I'm dull minded enough to waste my time like that?!" With a soft noise his head thumped back onto the sand, the response having robbed yet more of vigour from him. He mumbled something into the sand which Emily couldn't fully make out, but sounded vaguely like "Go away."

"Fine!" she snapped, getting stiffly to her feet. "Weirdo!" She pivoted sharply on one foot, not caring that it kicked up a small gout of sand that further went over her trainers, and marched off down the beach, muttering under her breath.

Once she'd gone a little way, she risked a look back. The merman was still there. He was no longer alone though; the ever-ubiquitous gulls had wasted no time in swooping down and were beginning to amass on him. Somewhat worryingly, he was making no move at shooing them away, merely lying there as they congregated upon him. Almost like vultures upon a corpse. Their sharp beaks jabbed at the merman’s flesh, as their mewing cries carried across the sand. Emily paused. She was still bitter about the shock, riding the angry high of their argument, but a small spark of concern alighted itself in her.

Her anger tried to reassert itself; if he was going to be attacked by gulls, then it was his own fool fault for dressing up like seafood! But a shadow stretched out of her past, tickling the edge of her brain. She’d needed help once. A help that had never come. A help that would have made all the difference in the world.

Those thoughts doused her anger down to low embers.

She sighed; the noise was long and drawn out, an invisible weight sinking her shoulders.

“Aw, hell,” she swore. Then with a burst of speed that startled even herself, she turned and sprinted across the sand, yelling and waving her arms. Gulls rose into the air in a startled, raucous cloud, angrily protesting the interruption.

“Go on! Shoo! Shoo!” shouted Emily, jinking back and forth, the air a chaotic throng of harsh shrieks and buffeting wings.

In a few seconds the gulls had dispersed, flocking briefly in a grey-tinged horde before settling a little further away on the beach. Emily could feel the weight of their stares burning into her back.

“Hubris birds,” she muttered under her breath before looking down. “Hey. You still alive?”

The merman shifted slightly, a stiff, sore motion. He didn’t even bother to raise his head; instead tilting it so that a single eye peeked out. Emily hissed. He definitely looked worse, a series of small cuts now lining his back.

"Look, I don’t know what your deal is, but we've gotta get you to a hospital," she said.

A desperate, genuine fear entered into the merman's eye at her words. He mumbled a sand-muffled something, frantically trying to push himself up, head swinging around to the sea, before flopping forwards again. Standing above him, a detail suddenly slotted itself into place in Emily's mind with frightening accuracy. The groove the merman lay in wasn't just _a groove._

It was evidence.

Evidence of where he'd been trying to drag himself towards the sea. Sure, some of it was from where he had thrashed about when she'd approached, but the majority of the traces were struggle marks that spread both outwards and behind him like a wedding train.

_What if he was a real merman?_

The thought was stupid, but yet something about the merman's behaviour and reaction seemed so genuine. Everything fitted together in too neat a way for him just to be some rando on the beach trying to have a laugh at someone else's expense. Emily frowned as scepticism rose in her. Mermaids weren’t real, everyone knew _that_! Then again, at one point _everyone knew_ that barnacle geese grew on trees, and _everyone knew_ that the sun revolved around the Earth. Only five percent of the ocean had been explored by humanity; who knew what creatures lurked in the other ninety-five percent? Creatures like mermaids, for example…

He could still be someone trying to pull her leg. Well, she’d never get any conclusive answers standing around like a ninny. Despite her resolve, Emily had a feeling that she was going regret her next action. Nonetheless, she squatted down next to the merman.

"Hey. Jerk. You want to get back to the sea, yeah?" The merman regarded her warily with one eye, a low moaning noise drifting from him. "I'll help you get back, but if you try and, I dunno, bite me or do anything weird, I'll drop you and let the gulls get you." She gestured offhandedly over her shoulder; the gulls still crowded behind. Eyeing. Waiting. The merman glared feebly, first at her, then at the birds, and tried to shuffle away. "Glad we're on the same page."

Emily drew herself up. How was she gonna do this? Dragging him by the tail seemed like a bad idea, and if her knowledge of beachings was correct – which it was - then he’d no doubt be a heavy bugger. Shoot, fish were weighty things once you took away all that helpful buoyant water. She frowned; some form of assistance then? She didn't exactly have something large enough to drag him on, like a blanket. Nor could she exactly go for help. Good grief, what would she say? _Hey, could you help me one mo, please? I need to drag a rude merman back into the ocean._ She’d be laughed out of the town _._ Plus, there was still the matter of the gulls, just waiting for her to leave. Well, the merman was half human, so she'd have to work with that. With a heft, Emily grabbed him –

And promptly yelped.

“What the-“ she started.

Cautiously, she tested her hand against the merman’s skin again. She drew her hand one way along his arm, encountering no resistance. Then she tentatively tried it the other way and encountered an abrasive texture. Dermal denticles. Of course.

“Of all the mermaids I have to rescue, I had to get the one with teeth for skin,” she muttered.

However, that wasn’t all. The merman's skin was unnaturally dry, far, _far_ dryer than a human's; it crackled underneath Emily's fingers, a disquieting little feeling that had her rubbing her hand against her leg to be rid of the sensation. Somehow both these impressions seemed to further cement the validity of the situation. Two little signposts pointing to ‘ _Real_ ’.

Drawing herself back up to her full height, Emily paced a little in the sand as she thought. In the distance, the gulls shuffled their wings. A couple hopped forwards. Okay. Okay. She was already covered in sand, so what the hell. Why not add skin abrasions to the day’s events?

In the five minutes that followed, a great deal of swearing, falling over, tangling of limbs, scraping of skin, and liberal distribution of sand upon both human and merman ensued. In the end, Emily managed to somehow manoeuvre the pair of them into a slipshod piggyback position; the merman’s arms were slung forward over her shoulders, and his rough chin dug into the back of her neck. It wasn't a perfect piggyback since he had no legs to support, so Emily ended up having to bend a lot further forward to make sure he didn't slip off. In addition, congratulations! Her earlier guess had been correct: he _did_ weigh a lot, and her back was already protesting the strain.

Gritting her teeth, and hiking him up once more for good measure, Emily began to walk. The ocean was only two minutes away, but it was the most uncomfortable two minutes that she’d ever spent; almost immediately her back began to majorly ache from the sheer _awkwardness_ of the position; the merman’s tail dragged in the sand like the world’s worst anchor; every so often she had to readjust her burden so he didn't slip off; and to top it all, off the _smell_ -! It was as if someone had left a fish out in the sun for far too long - which, Emily had to admit, was probably true.

Finally, with much cursing under her breath, Emily reached the sea. She paused for a moment at its edge, waves tentatively lapping at the front of her shoes. Oh. For a moment her gaze darted back and forth between both surf and shoes. A small amount of mental calculation ensued. There was no way she could take them off whilst carrying the merman, and to be honest, keeping them dry simply wasn’t worth the sheer rigmarole involved in putting down and picking up the merman again. She sighed. With the air of an annoyed martyr, Emily strode forward into the waves.

Despite any assumption she’d had about the temperature, Emily still couldn’t help a gasp startling out of her. The water was cold, in a dull way that seemed to bypass the flesh entirely, striking straight at the bones. It was the sort of chill which sapped one’s strength and immediately made you long for a warm fire. Emily found herself half-tempted to just drop the merman and run, his feelings be damned. But no, instead she waded further and further in, gritting her teeth as if she was trying to bite through steel. Only when the water was up to her thighs did she halt.

"I'm gonna let go now," she said to the merman.

"..." said the merman. He’d been strangely still and silent all throughout the journey.

Emily straightened up; immediately she felt a burst of blessed relief. With a shrug of her shoulders, she disentangled the merman's head and arms from her; he roughly slid down her back – skin coarsely catching on her clothes as he descended – and fell into the water with a splash. There he remained, an odd blur. Emily held her breath for a heartbeat. Then two. Had- had he _died_ upon her back? She leaned forward, and was just on the verge of perhaps trying to grab the merman, when he suddenly darted off; Emily sloshed a couple of steps backwards in surprise. Another splash rang out, and there he was a short distance away, his head poking out of the water. He glared at her one final time before disappearing into the sea once more.

"Would it killed you to have said 'thanks'?!" Emily yelled after him, flinging her arms out. So much for gratitude!

Feeling decidedly chilled, she waded out of the sea, trousers now clinging to her legs in an uncomfortable way, shoes squelching with every step.

It was going to be a long walk home.

\---

Several days passed by with little fanfare. For Emily, it felt almost bizarre in a way at how _normal_ things were; it was almost as if her little misadventure with the merman hadn’t happened. She spoke to no one of it, of course, and so the story was only confined to herself. An oddity locked away in her memory like a strange little treasure: mermaids were real, and she’d rescued one. But when she thought back and considered things, her brain cast a strangely dreamlike filter over the whole event; like it was just waiting for her to let her guard down so that it could neatly file the affair under ‘dreams’. It was no night-born delusion though. She’d had the scraped skin, sandy clothes, and sodden shoes to prove it. With that in mind, it was with mixed feelings that Emily returned to the beach. It wasn’t a particularly special occasion: her Mom had suggested a walk. And so she, along with her Mom, and her brother all tramped their way along the sand. They made a companionable little group, though there was always an empty space that Emily’s mind was desperately aware of, and even more desperate to fill.

As she gazed at the slate-grey clouds above, Emily’s neck suddenly pricked with the sensation of being watched. Acting like her head was being drawn on a hook, her gaze slowly swung around to the sea. The waters were choppy, the forecast poor, and so she didn't immediately spot what'd drawn her attention. Then her eyes caught hold; a familiar white-haired head and shoulders poking out of the sea. The merman.

He was staring at her. Emily halted mid-step, brows drawing together in a single blank moment of confusion.

"Whatcha looking at, Em?" Navin popped up beside her, temporarily snatching her attention away from the merman. When she looked back, he was gone.

"I,” she began, then trailed off. “No. Never mind, it’s nothing,” she finished, shaking her head.

Navin’s expression was one of incredulity. “Hey, don’t fob me off with that! What was it?”

Emily began to walk away. “Like I said, it was nothing. Just the waves playing tricks.”

“Come _on_ , Em!” Navin darted after her, curiosity shining in his eyes. “You saw something, I know you did!”

“I really didn’t.”

Despite Navin’s further prodding and protests, Emily remained mum. The secret was hers to keep. Later, on the way back, she found automatically herself scanning the water. The merman had gone; the sea an empty and uneven expanse. Why had he been watching them? No, not _them_ , her. Why had he been watching _her_?

With a shiver, she hurried on.

\---

It was not, as Emily hoped, a one-off occurrence.

From that point on, whenever she ventured onto the beach, she'd see the merman. Every time. Without fail. He was almost a constant, a brief flash in the water that was there one moment, then gone the next. Emily had half a mind to confront him about it, but due to some strange dint of circumstance never could; she always happened to be with someone when she spotted him. Still, it was aggravating; he'd be there, head and shoulders above the water, _watching_ her like she was some bloody fish in an aquarium. Emily would feel his gaze burning into her, and would turn to look; there'd be a moment of shared contact, then he’d be gone. It was kinda creepy, and more than a bit annoying. Somehow, she'd ended up with a mermaid for a stalker. Great. Just great. Out of all the unfortunate things that could happen - ignoring The Big One, which lurked in her past with teeth bared - she would have never in a million years guessed that "a jackass ungrateful merman that you rescued off the beach beginning to stalk you" would be one of them. Something had to be done.

So one day, when Navin was off with his mates, and her Mom was otherwise occupied, Emily slipped on her coat, pulled on an old pair of trainers, and headed for the door.

"Goin' for a walk," she called, not waiting to hear the reply.

Her steps were decisive, purposeful; here was a girl on a _mission._ A mission titled ‘Please leave me alone, weirdo merman.” She maintained a firm stride down road after road, until the sea stretched out before her, and sand softened her footfalls. The weather – as ever - was overcast. She quickly glanced up and down the beach. To her relief, nobody was immediately in the vicinity. Off in the distance a small figure had an even smaller dog gallivanting around them. The threat of a downpour was a good enough deterrent. Rain stops play.

Although just a breeze, the wind had a greater amount of bite across the exposed beach. Zipping her coat up as far as it could go, and hunching her shoulders, Emily eyed the sand, gauging its dryness. It was still damp from an earlier shower, so there was no chance of sitting. Instead she stood, hands jammed in her coat pockets, glaring at the sea, and waited.

It wasn’t long before a scarred face that’d become far too familiar popped up from the water.

“There you are,” Emily said, though there was no chance he’d hear her at that distance.

She walked steadily towards the surf, and the merman swam towards the shore, as if he were her imperfect reflection. They met, the waves lapping at Emily’s shoes, the merman sitting in the shallows.

“What do you want?” demanded Emily. “Every time I come here I see you watching me, but then you clear off into the spray! Why?”

The merman regarded her coolly. “Well, you’re always with other humans. Just because I’ve revealed myself to one inlander doesn’t mean I plan to make a habit of it.”

“That doesn’t fully answer my question: what do you want?” She folded her arms, fingers drumming against one elbow.

The merman glanced away for a second, his expression souring as if someone had just stepped on his tail, or as if he was psyching himself up for an unpleasant task. Then he looked Emily dead in the eye. “I want to thank you for your assistance the other day.”

Emily couldn’t help but notice that he pronounced ‘assistance’ like it was a barb caught between his teeth.

“Great. Thanks accepted. Now clear off and leave me alone.” She waved an arm as if shooing away a seagull, then turned to leave.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw the merman’s arm blur. Instinct kicked in: Emily’s own arm automatically moved to intercept, catching something even before she’d even processed what was happening.

“That wasn’t my thanks,” the merman said. He inclined his head towards the thing that Emily now held. “ _This_ is my thanks.”

Emily turned her hand to view the object; it was a slightly battered old shell with some odd blue streaks on it. Automatically her thumb moved across the shell’s surface, to better feel the texture maybe, but there must’ve been a sharp bit somewhere; she flinched, her nicked thumb leaving a streak of red behind.

“A shell?” she said, eyebrows raised.

“A _token_. True thanks requires action, and actions are a better thanks than words,” said the merman, sounding like he was reciting a pledge. “If you ever need my assistance, drop this in the sea and I will come to your aid.” There was a pause, his tail flicking this way and that in the surf. “It’ll only work for you.”

Emily eyed him suspiciously. “What do you mean?”

“If anyone else drops it in the water, then I will not be summoned. Only for the one whose blood is on it will I appear.”

Emily looked at the streak of red on the shell, and for the first time noticed how it had the same sort of distribution as the blue ones. An image flashed in front of her eyes from before: _blue blood caked on his face from where she’d kicked him_.

A horrible understanding filled her; she looked up slowly. Her gaze locked with his like the docking of a ship.

“This is your blood,” Emily murmured. It was a statement, not a question.

Her stare practically pinned the merman in place; after a moment of silence he nodded solemnly. Even so, he didn’t look too pleased about the situation.

“A blood token,” he volunteered.

With that same sort of dreamlike slowness, Emily inspected the token once more. It made sense in a horrendous sort of way; here was a merman who, rather than resembling the clean sort of mermaid you'd see on a birthday card for a five year old - all soft hair and friendly smiles - looked more like something that'd just crawled out of a nature documentary programme about the deep ocean; there was the same sort of glistening skin, tendrils, and spikiness about him. This was a creature who lived in the sea, as opposed to merely using it as a setting, a glorified backdrop. Saying thanks by giving her an apparent 'token' smeared with his blood seemed entirely probable and consistent with the sort of being he was. It still didn't make it any less creepy or weird.

Emily reluctantly pocketed the shell. "If I get hepatitis from this then I'm gonna come into the ocean and deck you." As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Emily could tell that they'd gone completely over the merman's head. She could practically see them curving a graceful arc through the air, up, over, and away. "Nevermind." She suddenly felt tired, as if all her annoyance with the merman had somehow drained away, leaving an empty and exhausting void in its place. “Thanks for the-“ Emily gestured emptily at the open air, “-token. And stop watching me.”

“Rest assured, I have better things to do with my time than wait for an inlander to be alone. The next – and _only_ \- time our paths will cross will be when you have used the token.”

A thought suddenly occurred to Emily, pushing its way from her mouth before she could claw it back. “Do you have a name?”

Did mermaids and mermen have names, down there in the depths of the ocean? Or were they animalistic creatures, having no use for such a thing? Until the other day, she hadn’t even known they’d existed - hadn’t _expected_ them to exist, a strange creature from folklore. Her mind conjured images of dark-shadowed mermaids swimming in the bathypelagic zone, eyes glowing from some unknown source, serrated teeth ready to ensnare prey…

The merman snorted derisively, breaking the image. “Of course I have a name.”

When he didn’t continue, Emily prompted him further. “Well, what is it? If I ever have to use this thing-“ she tapped her pocket, “-it’d be easier if I have an actual name to use, other than ‘merman’. Unless you want me to call you 'Mermy' for short,” she added flatly.

Man, did this merman have any expression other than ‘frowning’? There was a pause, filled with the sound of waves gently rolling back and forth.

“Trellis,” he said finally.

“Like the garden furniture?”

“Like the what?” He tilted his head to one side, sounding genuinely confused.

“Doesn’t matter. I'm Emily," she added after a moment.

"Emily." Trellis tested the word, rolling it around in his mouth like a foreign taste.

Emily decided it was time to wrap things up before they got any stranger. Plus the wind was beginning to pick up, and there was that hint of pre-rain dampness in the air. She shoved her hands back into her coat pockets, hair dancing around her face.

"Right, I'm going to go now,” she said, matter-of-factly.

The merman, no, Trellis, nodded. Without so much as a by-your-leave, he slithered away through the surf, into the deeper water of the sea.

And was gone.

For a minute Emily remained watching the spot where he’d disappeared, before slowly heading back across the sand.

As she walked home, she could feel the weight of the shell in her pocket; it jolted about with each step she took. In a way she felt relieved. This whole merman business was at an end. Trellis had seemed eager to get away from the beach and for the rendezvous to be over as quickly as possible, a feeling she echoed. It could now all safely be put in the past, an odd little knot of an encounter. At least, that was what Emily wanted to believe. The bloodied shell in her pocket told a different story. It hinted at a possible future meeting, a promise in solid form. Even worse, it was a reminder, a memento even. It was _proof_. It would have been easier in a way if Trellis had just thanked her vocally and then buggered off like she'd initially assumed. Now they had this weird blood pact thing going on, and there was a physical promise in her pocket. Proof.

As Emily climbed the concrete steps to her house, pausing a moment to knock the residual sand off her shoes, her attention wandered out over the sea; her home was on a hillside, and so provided its occupants with a clear view across the water. On any other day the sea would just be that: the sea, an ignorable part of the landscape that occasionally functioned as a place to swim in summer, and sent huge waves crashing against the bleachers in winter. Now the sea felt weird. Like it was some solid entity, with a foreign object in it. A merman. She shook herself, partially to dislodge that thought, partially because it was chill out, and headed inside.

She consigned the shell to the bottom of her sock drawer, and tried to forget.

\---

A soft rumble rolled across the sky, like the growl of some distant god. Ha, if only the sea gods were clement enough to give warnings, like the ones dwelling in the sky did. Far above, the sea's surface began to ripple and shiver as rain struck it, making odd, dappled pattern upon the roof of the world. Rain. What a novel concept. Water that'd been sucked from the sea, returning back to it in an endless cycle; the waterwheel that kept the world turning. A cause for inlanders to hide and shelter, rejecting the bountiful gift of water they'd been given. How very typical of them.

Hidden between the great supporting beams of a pleasure pier, within a vast man-made forest of branchless trees, Trellis watched the rain as it returned to its place of origin. His tail gently swayed back and forth, fins softly flaring open and shut. The surface of the open sea made an interesting contrast with the section shielded by the bulk of the pier above; a square of regular waves amid a spotted sky. With a twinge of regret, Trellis dragged his attention away from the rain; it was all too easy to become distracted and mesmerised during a rainstorm, and depths knew he didn’t have the luxury of wasting hours in that way. He carefully twined his way between pillars, heading to where the waters were murkiest and the silt was thickest. That wasn’t saying much however; the pier columns were still far too open for his tastes. His tail thrashed in irritation; this present hiding place was only viable whilst the tide was in. Once out, it was the exact sort of place that inlander elvers liked to play. As if confirming this, a brightly-coloured lump of cracked plastic lay half-buried in the sand to his left. With a certain amount of distaste, Trellis yanked it out. He inspected it with a critical eye. Some sort of container, perhaps? There were starfish adorning it, but they were certainly unlike any starfish he’d ever seen. They had developed eyes instead of eyespots for a start, and what’s more, they were situated right where the starfish’s stomach would distend. And it had a _mouth_. With _teeth_. Shoals, didn’t inlanders know anything about the sea? He chucked it to one side and it sank to the floor, abandoned once more.

Trellis headed deeper under the pier, pausing briefly to undulate his tail in the dim water as he stirred up the silt a little more. It was a tiresome bind, having to flit from pier to pier, tied to the tide, creating makeshift smokescreens wherever he went, but what else could he do? He could hardly go back to the covey, not after what happened. And smelling of a _human_ , no less. Pride rankled in him, making his fins stiffen and flare, and his tail lash once more. After a moment his dark mood passed, and he stilled.

The human.

That was another ghost of a predator, nipping at his tail. He could have just left well alone, not returning to that beach and swimming off into the blessed deep, the law be hanged!

Trellis sank a few feet, coming to rest on the sandy bottom; here algae carpeted the beams, slowly creeping upwards like a contagious disease. He groaned, dragging his hands down his face, shoulders slumping. Who was he kidding? He could no more ignore the law than he could live on dry land. Still, to give her a _blood token_?

“Just a precaution,” he murmured to himself.

A crab scuttled by; Trellis’ hand shot out. There was a very definitive crunch, as if something had come to a sudden halt. A life, perhaps.

As Trellis ate, he thought. A human had gotten involved, but it would remain that way, a static number. One human. One. He was in a tight enough corner as it was, and couldn’t afford to create a new weakness; another point which could be exploited. Besides, it wasn’t as if he’d revealed himself to a whole school! Just a single human. A human that’d _kicked him in the face_. Trellis winced; ran a hand across his uneven nose. _Inlanders_. Any sensible inlander would’ve seen him and left well alone - especially after the way he’d thrashed, a desperate act to drive them off. He’d almost killed himself doing it, wrecking what little reserves of energy he’d had left. But not only had the human come back, she’d driven the gulls from him, and had carried him back to the ocean’s forgiving waves. Thank the depths he’d been on the verge of unconsciousness for that event though. Despite his recollection being dim, he definitely recalled the way she’d hefted him about, like a whale carrying her calf. And stuck to her back, he couldn’t help but be subjected to the smell of inlander. It was a scent unlike anything he’d ever smelt in the sea; meaty, animalistic, and earthy. _Close-textured_ was the only way he could sum it up. Something about his skin had been displeasing to her, because sometimes she’d hissed and yowled as if she’d seen a predator when she touched him. Trellis shook his head. _Depths_. Humans were a mystery. Nonetheless, despite suffering through all that, she’d saved his life. The discomfort had been worth it to feel the buoyant, salt water upon his scales once more! Supporting, cradling, _healing_. It was like the first mer themselves had poured water into his gills. No more pressure crushing him, no more feeling his skin burn and crack under the merciless sun.

What the human she called herself again? Emily? Trellis snorted, his gills flaring. Odd name. Odd species.

An absence of sound suddenly caught his attention, and he looked up. The surface of the sea, whilst still rough, was no longer rippling. The rain had finished returning to the ocean, for now. Trellis felt the familiar pull in his bones, felt the mood of the sea change. The tide was beginning to ebb. It was time to move on.

If someone were to gaze between the pillars of the pier, they would have found it empty, save for a broken bucket, the few remaining fragments of a crab shell, and several small clouds of silt slowly sinking down.

\---

That night, curled under her duvet, Emily dreamed of the ocean. She dreamed of salt upon her skin; of speeding through the water with a single flick of her tail; of trenches so deep that the sheer pressure alone would crush her; of hydrothermal vents that would boil the very flesh from her bones and of the scarlet tube worms that clung to their sides. She felt the ebb and flow of the tides, and saw the moon shining above her, master and commander.

She dreamed of blood as blue as the sky, winding through the water in a single, unbroken streak.

Below her, she felt something scream; vibrations rippled through the water in place of sound. An immense being stirred, and began to rise up underneath her. Its mass was so large, so formidable that rather than pass through the water, it forcefully shoved it aside on a grand scale.

Though she wished to dart away, something held her in place. Instead she watched as a form slowly emerged from the gloom, but never quite understood what it was that she was seeing.

What she did know, however, was that it rose steadily, unhurriedly. As if it had all the time in the world in which to accomplish its business.

\---

That night, curled in the corner of a dock, boats tethered above him, Trellis dreamed of the land. He dreamed of sunlight upon his skin; of legs pounding against the ground and carrying him across vast distances; of mountains that reached so high into the sky the very air itself grew thin; of snow leopards prowling along impossible ledges, stalking mountains goats who stood on nothing but a vertical drop. He felt the turning of the seasons, saw the sun stretch shadows across the land as it journeyed.

He dreamed of blood as red as corallium, soaking into the soil in a steadily-spreading patch.

Beyond the horizon, he heard something scream, a muffled sound that travelled through the air across a vast distance. The sea bulged, boiled, as the waters began to rise, dislocated by something very old, and very, very large.

Though he wished to run, he could not move; his legs felt like there were rooted to the spot. Instead he watched, understanding what he was hearing, but never seeing what it was that was causing the disturbance.

The waters rose, steadily creeping up his legs, rising from ankle to calf to thigh, with no sign of stopping.

\---

When Emily awoke the next morning, rays cutting across her bedroom floor, the scent of the sea was in her nose and the taste of salt was upon her lips. The dream hung in her mind for a split second, before melting away in the sunlight. Something important had begun, but what? And for some strange reason she felt particularly aware of her sock drawer.

In a harbour on the other side of town, a lone merman woke with the scent of soil surrounding him, and the sensation of sunlight upon his skin. Trellis had dreamed, but what had been the contents? Whatever they’d been, all were long gone, having fled to the furthest corners of his mind, leaving only a vague sense of disquiet in their wake, and the sense of a promise not yet fulfilled.

**Author's Note:**

> Notes:   
>  Further Plot Points:  
> Regarding the token Trellis gave to Emily:  
> It’s a ‘thanks for saving me!’ gift, which has to be given due to sea law. There are two types of token: regular tokens and blood tokens. Regular tokens can be used by anyone, and the person who gave it isn't as bound to act instantly when summoned. Blood tokens on the other hand, have the giver's blood on it, and they cannot ignore it the summons when it is used. For those who are really desperate, they ensure that the recipient’s blood on the token as well, meaning that only the recipient can summon the one under onus. It's a protective measure for the really desperate.
> 
> Emily ends up using the token in order to save Navin during a school trip gone wrong. This incident is especially upsetting for her, as her father, David, died at sea. _Traumaaaaaaaaaa_  
>  Although the token is used up, and Emily and Trellis’ association should have typically come to an end, it doesn’t! The rescue attempt was spotted by another mermaid, who took word of it to the Deep King (more on him in a mo). Due to this, and after more shenanigans, Emily and Trellis eventually end up working together to figure out the mystery of why the Deep King hasn’t died. Also: shipping ensues.  
> I’m sure they have a womantic moment in a lagoon at some point, at night. Because of course they do. Ho ho.  
>   
> The Deep King (a.k.a. the Elf King):  
> He lives deeper than the other mermaids all the way down in the twilight and Hadal zones. He occasionally surfaces to interact with others in some form, or can be summoned at a particular point where the sea floor drops away. The Deep King was the one responsible for having Trellis stranded on the beach as an attempt to kill him. He is also morphologically different to other mermaids; think ‘minor eldritch abomination’, and is also much larger than the regular mermaids. He’s huge, like, blue whale size at least! Additionally, he’s the only one of them that breeds; mermaids are split into two types - royals and changels - royals are descended from the Deep King (a title that is passed on), changels are mermaids that've been offered a choice to become a mermaid and transformed.  
> The Deep King dies after doing ‘the greatspawn’, in which he asexually spawns thousands of young mermaids, but only a few reach adulthood. Most of the surviving ones migrate to other seas, where other Deep Kings live, but a select few are genetically compelled to stick around in order to ‘inherit’ the title. The present Deep King had done the greatspawn (which Trellis and Luger are part of) but hasn’t died and passed on his title.  
> This is a cause of tension among mermaids as they wonder why he hasn't died and what's going to happen with the two sons.  
> In truth, the Deep King did die after greatspawning – he’s absolutely dead! But a very old, very dangerous parasitic lifeform from the bottom of the sea (a.k.a. Ikol) has latched onto him before he passed, and is controlling his corpse. Because Ikol is essentially holding the Deep King together, he’s preventing the biological processes that would cause the metamorphosis of the new Deep King. Ikol to flood the Earth because he 1). wants more prey, 2.) to go on the warpath against the other Deep Kings, and 3). to rule the ensuing watery wasteland.
> 
> _  
> Somehow a scruffy human and a malnourished merman defeat them. How? Bugger if I know! Where are the other characters, and what are are they doing? Again, bugger if I know! Also, final note for now: merfolk have both lungs and gills here. They're kinda like a lungfish! They also do get together for companionship purposes, but are incapable of breeding.  
> _
> 
> _  
> Distant Epilogue:  
>  Emily – now an elderly woman – awakes in the middle of night, feeling a summons of sorts. She follows it to the beach, and there meets an eldritch abomination. It’s Trellis, the present Deep King. Emily finds it hard to look at him because his form is so alien and, well, eldritch, so she focuses on Trellis’ scar. Together they reminisce. (And maybe a child relative of Emily follows her down to the beach and witnesses all this?)  
> Trellis is about to undergo the greatspawn, and he wants Emily to be there.  
> “So soon?”  
> Yes, soon. The antics of Ikol knocked things out of balance, and so he has to undergo it now.  
> “Won’t you die?” Emily protests.  
> Not for a few years yet, Trellis assures her. Once suitable heirs have grown, then his body will stop. Twenty years, give or take.  
> The story ends with him greatspawning, and I’m sure it’s beautiful in a frightening sort of way.  
> _


End file.
